


In October, we Thrive

by Turtle_ier



Category: SMP live, SMPLive, SMPLive (Minecraft), The Misfits (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Autumn, Fictober, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Spooky, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 21:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtle_ier/pseuds/Turtle_ier
Summary: Fictober 2019: The fictober that wasn't meant to be15 fics based on SMPlive and autumn, with a list of prompts in the description. Each chapter is a different theme :)





	1. Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> TL;DR:  
This is half a fictober collection that I discontinued due to creator tensions with fan works and SMPlive. 
> 
> I made a post on Tumblr about this already prior to posting, which is here: https://fackin-hell-mate.tumblr.com/post/187817879466/difficult-situation
> 
> I do feel the need to reinstate a couple of things, however. 
> 
> I do NOT ship the SMPlive creators. I don't approve of people ignoring the creator wishes and doing it anyway, and I don't want ANY of my work within the fandom to be considered to be a ship. I began writing this in the beginning of September before there was anything on Tumblr stated about AUs or fiction or fan art, but after seeing the confused, often misdirected mess on there today, I will no longer be contributing to the fandom via original works.  
I didn't want to leave 9k of work to rot on my hard drive, however, especially since these are totally finished pieces of work that I spent at least two weeks or so on, and I figured that if fan-works turn out to be okay, and that people continue to use Ao3, there will be this for them to see. If this does turn out to be inappropriate, however, this work will be deleted from Ao3. 
> 
> This is my last piece of fan work for SMPLive on Tumblr or on Ao3. So long, and thanks for all the fish.
> 
> Prompt list:   
Dirt  
Rain  
Wind  
Leaves  
Fire  
Books  
Savoury  
Sweet  
Writing  
Blackberries  
Darkness   
Blankets  
Fog  
Pumpkin  
Hot Chocolate  
Coffee   
Tea   
frost   
Candles  
Cats   
Lightning  
Basement  
Trees  
Sleep  
Fruit picking  
Scarves  
Sweaters  
Fireworks  
Cemeteries  
Scarecrow  
The end

“Why are you sitting in the dirt?” Ted asked, leaning over to get a better look at Carson. 

“I’m not feeling it,” He replied, not really answering him, “I’m just not into it.”

Ted rose an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not doing all the work by myself,” he said, putting the shovel in front of him like it would convince Carson to get up quicker, “What do you think I am? A workhorse that doesn't get tired?” 

“I think you're Ted,” Carson said, looking up at him through his fringe, “And I think i’m tired.”

“You're the one that wanted to bury this thing. This joke was your idea.” 

Ted nudged the plastic skeleton with his shoe, which was covered in the rich soil, much like his jeans and gloves were. It was too hot to wear a jacket with the work he’d been doing, despite the chill to the air, so his was tied around his waist. Carson was flushed red with the warmth, but was yet to take off his own. 

“Dude, c’mon. Let’s just take a break,” Carson patted the bare patch of earth beside him under the shade of the tree, “Cooper isn't back until Tuesday, anyway, so it’s not gonna make much difference if we do it now or later.” 

Ted sighed but did what Carson told him to, and sat down beneath the tree next to his friend. He had to admit, having the cool bark of the tree against his back did help with his overheating, as did the chill that came from the earth he sat on. Autumn was well and truly in swing now, with the trees losing their leaves and people putting up their halloween decorations prematurely (he swore they sold them earlier and earlier every year), and he was looking forward to going inside and helping himself to a glass of mulled cider, even if it was the shit from three days ago. 

“I want cider,” Ted found himself saying out loud, even if it was to distract from the fact that they were two dudes sitting under a tree with a shovel and a plastic skeleton.

“Oh my god,” Carson said, “Same.”

Ted looked over at him, considering.

“Travis still has some left over.”

Carson gave him a look, “That shit from three days ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think it’ll still be okay?”

Ted shrugged, and while Carson couldn't see it, he could feel it nudge his own up and then down again. He sniffled, feeling the coolness begin to seep in deeper. 

“Do you want some?”

“Fuck yes.” 


	2. Rain

It was raining, and with Techno not having a reliable way home, he was stranded in the library until it eventually decided to stop, or he eventually decided that he’d rather be sick for a week than be stranded in the mathematical textbooks section until it stopped. All the other seats were taken, and someone he didn't like was making out between the shelves in the fiction section, so it was either the maths books or the psychology ones, and he didn't really feel like contemplating what was wrong with him.

Was there anything wrong? Who knows? What he did know was that he didn't want to find out if something was wrong, and he didn't want to find out if the person he didn't like was using tongue. 

“Hey man, you alright?” 

Techno all but jumped as a voice piped up beside him, and when he turned around to look, he came face to face with Wilbur, someone in the year below him who he’d only spoken once, and who was much better friends with all of Techno’s friends than Techno was with Wilbur. It had always been that awkward friend-of-my-friends situation, which begged the question: why was he talking to him? 

“Uh, yeah, I’m cool, I’m cool. Just checking out…” He flipped over the book he was holding, “Fractals…”

“Fractals, huh?” Wilbur nodded, making a face of understanding unique to when you don’t understand something at all. “Well, if you’re not too engrossed in your maths, I have a proposition for you.”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to join our table? We’re playing scrabble.”

Techno blinked at Wilbur. “Scrabble? Aren’t you into music though?”

“I am, but R.T. wants to do English at college, so it’s more his thing.” 

Techno made a face of understanding, that actually looked like he understood. “I think I know him.”

“He’s dead skinny, tall, always- “

“Always wears blue?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah I definitely know him. We had to do a project on _Nineteen Eighty-Four_together,” Techno said, eyes flickering over to the big windows near the front of the library when lightning flashed. It didn't look like the weather would let up any time soon, he thought. 

“Oh, cool! So, do you want to play?”

Techno smiled slightly, shoving the book back in the wrong place and then shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, sure. But only until the rain stops. And tell R.T. That he’s going to lose, same way that he came second on the Shakespeare essay,” he said with a grin. 

Wilbur laughed, “R.T. knew you’d say that. Now c’mon, let him prove you wrong. Only until the rain stops, though.”

“Yeah,” Techno said, following him, “Only until the rain stops.” 


	3. Wind

“It’s too fucking windy,” Cooper grumbled, sitting with his arms wrapped around him in an open field. They technically weren’t supposed to be there, since the field was private property, but with the summer’s hay harvest out the way and the exposed roots still drying in the open field near their shared house, Travis insisted that they just _had_to fly a kite one last time before the winter chill really started to seep into them.

It wasn't a bad kite, one labelled the ‘spooky bat kite’ by Travis himself, with a wingspan of about three foot and a long streamer behind it that fluttered green in the breeze. It wasn't bad weather for it - just approaching sun down when the wind really started to pick up, before it would drop off into nothing when it finally set. The bat’s grinning face looked down on them both, but even then, Cooper couldn't bring himself to be too pleased about it being up in the sky. He just wanted to go home.

It wasn't even that windy. 

Everything around him was a vivid orange - the sky, the field, the trees at the bottom of the hill, and even his own jacket, which if he realised had blended in so much with everything else, he wouldn't have worn it. Travis was in complete contrast, wearing a summery blue which turned an off purple in the lighting, and his dark brown hair looked like a little bed of curls from where Cooper was sitting, where he could only just see the other man.

“It’s really good weather, though,” Travis said, responding to Cooper’s earlier murmur, “Look, I've run out of string already!” 

Indeed, the spooky bat kite was high enough to be the size of a coin in the sky, almost the same size as the day-time moon that hung like another kite behind it. Cooper watched as Travis made the bat do a loop-de-loop, and half smiled when Travis grinned back at him. It was pretty much the only hill in their little town, and was large enough for Cooper to spend his evening looking down on the people and places he frequented. He could see Mr. Pete coming out to water his crocuses, and he could see Schlatt riding his bike down to the corner store (probably to buy those chocolate coins that he always seemed to carry), and even see Carson and Ted hanging out on the porch of Ted’s house drinking something that needed both hands. Over the hedge at the bottom of the hill, he could see Sneeg walking his cloud called a dog, and Jimmy hiding behind a lamp post to scare him, and Toxxic and Ty painting by the scummy pond in the park. 

Travis whooped as his kite managed another loop-de-loop, watching it change direction with the wind, which went from North to North-west, kicking up a folly of leaves with it. Something told Cooper that this was it - the last hurrah before the wind dropped with the sun setting - and he was completely correct in his assumption; as soon as the sun dipped behind the horizon the wind disappeared along with it, and the spooky bat kite fell from the sky like it had gone too close to the sun. Travis groaned as it hit the floor a good thirty metres from them and began to reel it in, his hands going quickly as he wrapped the line around the spool, and Cooper moved to get up and went to him.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Travis said with a sigh. 

Cooper hummed an agreement, and Travis looked up at him in confusion. 

“I thought you didn't like coming up here to fly the kite?” 

Looking back down the hill, he saw all the people below in the town moving again, and then looked at Travis. “It’s not too bad. Lots of things to look at.”

Travis smiled at him mischievously, “You were watching me? Creepy.”

Sputtling, Cooper yelled, “No, not you!” 

But it was too late - Travis was already running back down the hill, spooky bat kite behind him like he was trying to launch it, and shouting “Creep! Creep!” as he went, laughing.

Cooper, already giving chase, thought that they’d have to do this again some time. 


	4. Leaves

“This is bullshit,” Schlatt grumbled under his breath, “This is such bullshit.” 

“This is life,” Connor said, dragging another bag of leaves over to the sidewalk, “It’s shit, and it’s bullshit, but, like, we probably shouldn't have volunteered if we didn't want to do it.”

“Yeah, but your mom could have at least told us what it was that we’d be doing before the amount of money.”

“Fifteen bucks isn't bad though.”

“For the front _and_back lawn though? I’d’ve expected thirty.”

Connor wheezed out a laugh, his asthma playing up with the hard work and breathlessness, and said, “You shouldn't have said yes so quickly then.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Schlatt stood up straight, putting both arms out and looking directly at Connor. The rake fell to his feet, “This is my fault?” 

Connor didn't seem too bothered. 

“Yeah.”

Schlatt dropped his arms, “Connor, buddy, you hurt me in new ways that I can't express.”

“Cool. Can we finish raking the leaves now?” 

Schlatt picked up the rake again and resumed, but he also continued with his grumbles and moans about the work, and even as they raked and raked, the tree sheltering them decided to make their job more difficult and cast more and more leaves down on them. Eventually, Schlatt looked up at the tree, and then back at the pile of leaves, and then back at the tree. Connor looked at Schlatt, then at the leaves, and then at the tree, and then back to Schlatt. 

“What-”

“I've had enough of this tree.”

“You’ve had enough of the tree?”

“Yeah, I've had enough of this tree.”

“Not like,” Connor made a vague gesture to the trees on three sides of his house, “All the trees?”

“No, just this tree.”

“Just this tree?”

“Just this tree.”

Connor blinked at him. Schlatt stared back.

“I don't think we can get rid of this tree,” Connor said, “My Grandad planted it.”

Schlatt made a face.

“The leaves are pretty much done now, though,” Connor attempted to reconcile him, “So all we need to do is bag them-”

Fast as a rocket, a kid wearing a pink hoodie and a mask flew through the pile of leaves on a toy wagon, scattering them, leaving a long line of red and yellow leaves across the lawn and up onto the pavement. Schlatt stared in horror as Ty disappeared down the road, and didn't even react as Junky sprinted after him, going through the leaves as well, and laughing the whole while. 

Connor groaned, let his knees buckle, and fell face first into what was left of the pile of leaves. Schlatt stared down at him, then took to Connor’s will, and let himself fall into the leaves and on top of Connor’s back, forcing a grunt out of the other teen.

“Why do we bother?” Connor asked, “Every time we try to get money it backfires.”

Schlatt rested his cheek on Connor’s shoulder, his chin moving Connor’s jacket when he said, “We should kill Ty.’

“What!” Connor sounded horrified, “No! We should finish raking the leaves, then with the money, hire Techno to kill Ty.”

“You know what, Connor? That’s a great fucking idea.” 


	5. Fire

“Chubby bunny,” Swagger said.

“Schubby bonny,” Fitz said.

“One of you is going to vomit,” Kryoz looked between the two of them.

“Schbbie Bonny.”

“Cubby bun-e.”

“Sch-” Swagger made a choked sound, “Schob-e b’nny.”

Fitz looked like he was going to choke too, but from laughter.

“Cobby b’n’y” 

“Huhh-e hunn-e”

“Hoh-e hu-” Fitz had saliva dribbling down his chin, “Hoh-e hunny” 

Swagger lifted another marshmallow towards his mouth.

“Oh my god.” 

“Huh-e bunn.”

“I don't know if you can beat that.” Kryoz looked at Fitz, “I don't know if you’d _want_to beat that.”

Fitz looked at Swagger with saliva dribbling down his chin, and with a small spot of it on his jeans, and Swagger looked straight back, with his mouth somehow miraculously closed. With a retch, Fitz spat out the marshmallows behind the log he was sitting on, and Swagger made a vague sound of cheering, but ultimately had to do the same. Kryoz didn't hold back his laughter. 

“You guys are fucking idiots,” he said, “What if you choked? Like, seriously choked? We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

They really were. Aside from their camping light and the bright moon above them, the only light for miles around was the hastily put together campfire they’d made to get drunk around. The alcohol hadn't really set in properly yet, since all of them weren’t in a hurry to get wasted, and Swagger had sworn that he wouldn't get drunk enough to pass out on top of the other two again. 

“If I’d choked, like seriously choked, I would want you to bury me out here so that I wouldn’t have to be buried next to the fucking used car dealership.” Swagger said with a voice of disgust. 

“If I choked, like seriously choked,” Fitz said, playing along, “I’d want you to string me up in a tree so that the bears can’t get me.”

Kryoz laughed at them both. “Dude,” he said, “if I choked, like seriously choked, I would want you to just throw me on the fire. Straight up leave me there to go way over cooked. Toast marshmallows on my ass.”

“That’s gay.”

“You’re gay.”

“Really? Wanna find out?”

“No!”

Fitz made a kissy face, diving forward at Kryoz and laughing at the other man's yelling. He didn’t actually kiss him though, just brought his face dangerously close and held the wriggling and writhing man in his arms for a moment and let Swagger laugh wholeheartedly at them. Less than thirty seconds later, Fitz let him go, and Kryoz jumped back to his own log and wiped himself down.

“Fuck, man, I feel sorry for any girl you go after if you attack them like that.”

“Nah. I only save that for you.”

“That’s gay,” Swagger pointed out with a smirk.

“You're gay,” Fitz said, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh, no, no, no! That’s not gonna work on me!” 


	6. Books

“I don't think these will sell,” Sneeg said, putting another pile of Spider-Man comics out on the table. Jimmy didn't seem too concerned though, too busy organising the volumes in order and putting the individual prices on each.

“I can't be the only Spider-Man fan in the town, dude,” He said, “And besides, my dad thinks its dumb if I keep them all, which is, you know, obviously incorrect.”

Sneeg watched as Jimmy put three copies of the same volume in a pile, each as worn and read through as the other. “Right,” he said, “Obviously incorrect.” 

Boomer sniffed at the table, made a face at the six volumes of The Amazing Spider-Man, and then went to dig around in Jimmy’s flowerbeds. Sneeg couldn't blame him, seeing as Jimmy was going into a deep, one-sided conversation about the merits of the original comic series versus the recent movies. 

“Stark is _good, _don't get me wrong, but when volume one came out the whole point was that Peter’s arc was about uncle Ben-”

Sneeg’s eye caught a flash of purple and yellow, and he turned just in time to see Connor riding his bike down Apple Wood lane, and he leapt up from his chair to wave him down. Jimmy stopped just in time to see Connor approaching them. 

“Hey,” he said, gripping the seat of his bike with one hand and keeping the other in the pocket of his overalls, “What are you guys up to.”

“My dad doesn't see the light.” Jimmy stated.

“Uh, I don't _do_religion-”

“My dad doesn't see the light,” Jimmy continued, “And he wants me to sell some of my comics that I have duplicates of.”

“Oh, Okay…” 

“The thing is though, I don't want to just sell these to any old poser, you know? These are limited edition! One of a kind! Well, they would be if they didn't print more.” 

Connor looked more uncomfortable than usual, “Okay…” he said again, for lack of a better expression. Sneeg glanced at him with sympathy, wishing he hadn't dragged Connor into his friend’s antics. 

“So, Connor, I feel like I can trust you with my collection here, and seeing as you're my first customer of the day,” Jimmy put a hand on his heart, trying to prepare Connor for his overwhelming generosity, “I’ll let you have any one of these books for fifteen dollars each.” 

He didn't look impressed, and spared Sneeg a glance, but then his face shifted into something that could only be described as scheming. 

“I dunno,” he said, “I don't think I'm really into comic books that much, truth be told,” Jimmy opened his mouth in indignation, but Connor didn't let him interrupt him, “But I’ll tell you what. I’m part of the Book-Readers society, and we don't really have access to a lot of comic books or graphic novels or whatever. If I knew more about comic books, I might be more interested in buying one…”

Sneeg rose an eyebrow, impressed with Connor’s negotiating skills for once. For someone so quiet and previously unknown within the school, since meeting and getting to know Schlatt he had come right out of his shell, revealing a still quiet, but wisecracking and sneaky guy. And Sneeg knew, just from the look on Jimmy’s face, that it was a done deal.

“So, you think you’d be interested? If I brought a few in for your club, you might buy one?”

“I might,” Connor said, “And so might everyone else in the group. There’s fifteen of us in total.”

Jimmy was practically buzzing with excitement.

“Great!” he said, “Great, yeah! I’ll come over, I'll bring a few of these too.”

Connor smiled at him and got back onto his bike.

“Cool. I’ll see you guys around.” And with a glance at Sneeg, Connor rode off down the lane and around the corner, leaving Sneeg impressed and Jimmy excited. 

“Dude,” he said, “Connor’s going to get people to buy my books.”

Sneeg laughed lightly, but not at what Jimmy said, only at the irony that his friend was essentially giving his books out for free. He did suppose, however, that even if one person bought them for the listed price, it’d be worth it.

Still though, Connor had more 'talk-the-talk' than Sneeg realised. 


	7. Savoury

Ty kicked his legs out on the swing, looking down at the dirt that was worn away from years of use, and the wet looking grass of the park around him. His new mask, just a white one that he’d originally been given to customise but hadn't thought of a design yet, sat on his face and blocked it from the wind. He’d probably have to go inside soon, he thought, since it looked like it might rain soon, and he didn't want to get his only pair of shoes wet for school the next day. 

For now, though, he sat, swung a little, and thought about where ants went in winter.

There were already less of them around, with the cooling atmosphere and increased rainfall, but he still managed to see them scattering about the grass just before the heavens opened, getting ready to duck for cover when the little droplets would start to fall. 

With the first sign of rain, Ty leapt of the swing and booked it, diving under Mr. Captain’s broken fence and then over the other side, then over the fence into Mr. Pete’s old garden. Once under the dilapidated porch, he pulled out the lock picking kit his uncle had gotten him for his birthday and began to jiggle with the lock, and as soon as it opened, he shut it behind him and took through the abandoned house like a rocket. Up the stairs and into the front bedroom, then into the little door leading to the crawl space. Just as he settled down into his little space, piling the blankets around and on top of himself, he heard the front door downstairs open and close again, and another pair of footsteps stomping up the stairs and into the front bedroom, before the little door opened again.

“Did you bring it?” Ty asked Junky, who shook off his slightly damp coat and then put his own cat-shaped mask to one side. 

“I did!” Junky declared, putting his dinosaur shaped lunch box out in between them.

In the crawl space they were practically isolated from everything outside, save from a specific spot where Ty could see out into the room. Junky couldn't see anything from the opposite side unless they opened the little door, but that would reveal them and their location. The battery powered lantern between them remained a steady source of light.

Outside, thunder rolled, and faintly, they could hear the storm raging against the side of the house. Inside, they were focusing on Junky unwrapping the foil from around their sandwiches and Ty popping open the thermos of soup. 

A small feast, but a feast nonetheless. With the storm, there was a fairly good chance that they wouldn't be going home until after dark, or perhaps even later, so it was a good opportunity as ever to test the abandoned house as an optimal sleep-over location. 

“Do you have your phone?” Junky asked, “I wanna let my mom know that we’re here, in case something happens.”

Ty shoved a hand into his hoodie, then frowned. He checked his jeans, then his hoodie again, and then the space around them. Junky looked at him, and met his eye when Ty made contact.

“I don't have my phone.” 

The thunder grumbled again, audible even in their little den, and Junky stole a glance out of the hatch to look at the window, which had rain lashing down it in heavy streaks, and then he looked at Ty again after deciding that the walk to tell his mom wasn't worth it. 

“Let’s just hope nothing happens.”

Ty nodded, and already started to hope. 


	8. Sweet

For once the kitchen in Schlatt’s house smelled of something other than disinfectants and other cleaning supplies, and instead was replaced with the warm and comforting smell of cinnamon and sugar as Schlatt demonstrated his secret talent. Three pies, in pumpkin, apple and peach (although technically that one was a tart, he’d have you know), all lay out on the side cooling as he wiped down the surfaces and made sure to pick all the bits of pie dough off the floor. 

Techno, buried in near tears over his physics text book, didn't look up when Schlatt swept around his feet and the bottom of the stool he sat on. It was weird to Schlatt, seeing that Techno’s feet touched the floor, since his own only just made it to the bar on the same chair. 

“How’s it going?” Schlatt asked, hazarding a glance at Techno’s face, which was red and pulled back by his hands. 

Techno didn't move his head, but did look up at Schlatt through his tiny fringe, and then turned his face away so that they couldn't make eye contact. “It’s shit,” he said, “I still don't know how potential energy works.” 

Schlatt couldn't really relate, seeing as he was in the lower physics class, but still made a face of sympathy. He turned from the other teen and inspected his pies, looking at the most recently made peach tart, which was still too hot to eat, then to the pumpkin, and then to the apple. He decided after poking the top that the latter was cool enough to cut into, and fished around his kitchen for a pair of bowls, spoons, and a knife to cut it with. Techno didn't look up when Schlatt went to the freezer to grab some ice cream, nor when he cut into the pie itself, but did look up from his arms when Schlatt slid the slice and scoop across the counter. 

“I thought you had to save these?” Techno asked, not making a move for the slice, but Schlatt just shrugged.

“I can make another one. Our tree has shit loads of apples still,” he mumbled around a bite, “and besides - this is my secret talent.” 

Looking between Schlatt and the pie one last time, Techno almost reluctantly picked up the spoon and put a bit in his mouth, still resting his chin on his arm, and his arm on the book. He looked, in all his six-foot two-inches, like he’d been crushed. “When is your party?” Techno asked, sounding at least a little better.

“The twelfth,” he said, “Do you wanna come? It’s not like a,” he put down the spoon in favour of waving his hand around, “not a drinking thing. We’re all losers, here.”

Techno laughed, “So it’s more like a play board games and eat chips kinda thing?” 

“Board games and pie, man. You can't go wrong with that.”

“Pie solves a lot of things,” he admitted, “but I don't think it’ll make me pass my test tomorrow.” 


	9. Writing

Charlie lay on Carson’s bed, happy as can be, reading a playboy magazine he’d found in the mattress. Carson sat a few feet away, sixteen minutes away from a mental breakdown, as the deadline for his History essay drew closer and closer. That was the key difference between Charlie and Carson - Carson bought the magazines, hid the magazines, and focused on the important things even when the magazines were around. Charlie, on the other hand, found the magazines, opened them when Carson’s bedroom door was still open, and then ignored the pictures in favour of looking for a word search, even if he eventually had to settle on the articles instead. 

Reading the thin, 200-word article beside a woman who had pumpkins for breasts, Charlie couldn't help but notice Carson’s sudden cease in mumbling and complaining about the essay, and when he looked up, he saw why.

Carson was fast asleep, with his head down on the table and his glasses smushed against his face, inevitably causing some serious marks along the sides of his face and between his eyes. Charlie could sympathise - even when he slept face up with his glasses on, he still always ended up with them crumpled beside him or smushed into his skin. 

He tossed the uninteresting magazine to one side and got up, walking to where Carson was slumped over and asleep to take a better look at the situation.

Carson was too heavy to lift - even if he wasn't over six foot, Charlie wasn't the strongest of people - so the best option would probably be to wake him up, which was easier said than done considering how heavy a sleeper he was. 

“Dude, Carson,” he started saying, “Don't fall asleep man. You bent your glasses last time.”

But Carson was still asleep, and hadn't even moved when Charlie shoved at his shoulder. When Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled it from under his head, all he succeeded in was knocking Carson’s head against the desk, so he huffed out a breath and considered his options. 

Finally, after a couple of moments, Charlie came up with an idea. Gently, he pushed Carson’s head and torso back, letting him slump in the chair, and grabbed the blanket off the bed which he draped around the other teen. Charlie waited for a second, watching to see if Carson would react, but all he did was sit still and breathe heavily. He grabbed a pillow from the bed, put it on the desk just in case he fell forward again, and pulled the glasses from his nose. 

He nodded to himself, assessing his work, and then went to assess Carson’s essay which currently looked to be about four pages shorter than necessary. Considering the other teens anxiety over it, and the lack of effort he could put into it now that he’d worked himself into a 3am exhaustion, it was a wonder that Charlie hadn't thought of it sooner. It was simple, really - he’d just have to do the essay for him. 

Picking up the black ballpoint, he read through the essay so far, grabbed a textbook, and got to it - making sure that his elbow never disturbed the sleeping figure next to him lest he lose out on his beauty sleep. 


	10. Blackberries

“Why are we doing this again?” Techno felt the need to ask, following Schlatt as he weaved through the thick underbrush of Blair’s Wood, keeping an eye out for blackberry bushes. He was also looking out for something else, but at the minute didn't know exactly what. It all felt like a cheesy horror flick - going out into a misty forest to look for fruit, and then accidentally stumbling across something sinister - and Techno, despite people assuming him to be brave and strong (and even though he _was_the strongest physically on chess team, regardless of what Carson said), wasn't all that brave and strong.

Sure, when he knew what he was doing he _could_be brave and strong, but the whole point of ‘spooky thing in forest’ was that it was unknown. 

“I want to make jam,” Schlatt said, pulling another fallen branch to the side, “And if you help me, you can have some.” 

He had to admit, given how good Schlatt’s apple pie was, he was willing to bet that his jam was good too, and Techno was always a sucker for sweets (to a point where he didn't know how he still managed to be thin as a stick), so he nodded along and followed on.

Eventually, they reached a thicker part of the forest, where the trees looked to be older than some of the houses in the town, and where the light coming through the canopy was in thin streaks rather than clumps. The floor there was moist and earthy, with few of the plants they’d seen before. He assumed that it was because there was less light for them, and that deer or something had been eating the few green leaves left, which made it a lot easier to see the brambles with their deep-red turned black fruit. Stopping, Techno pointed out to a shrub filled with those very brambles, and they both made their way over. 

“Good eye,” Schlatt said, already fishing out the plastic tub from his backpack, “I couldn't see shit back there, it was too dark.”

“It did get pretty thick pretty quickly,” Techno mumbled, too focused on not stabbing himself on the thorns.

Something shifted in the bush near them. They both whipped their heads around, looking to the bush that they’d heard the noise from. They waited a moment, then looked at one another, and then back to the bush.

“You gonna, uh,” Schlatt gestured to the bush, “You wanna check it out?”

“What? Why me?”

“You're the tall one!” 

Techno sputtered, “‘The tall one’? Schlatt, I-”

A hare raced out of the bush, causing an upturning of leaves and noise that made both of them jump, and Schlatt let out a half-scream, like it died in his throat halfway through when he realised what it was. Clutching a hand to his chest, he leant forward with the half-filled box still in his hand.

“Oh my god,” he said, “What is with this fucking town and scary shit.” 

Techno looked at him, and then the path that the hare had taken to get the hell out of there, and just sighed. “C’mon, Schlatt,” he said, “Let’s just get this fruit and get out. I don't like this place.” 

Schlatt, despite his earlier confidence, couldn't agree more. 


	11. Darkness

“We’re lost,” Techno said, looking over Schlatt at the not-path in front of them. It was thick and overgrown with brambles and bushes littering the stones that used to be a way out of there, and when they travelled down any specific route, it always seemed to lead them deeper into the woods, making it harder and harder to tell where they were. 

Schlatt looked furious in the light of his phone, which had no GPS signal, “We’re not lost,” he said, looking around them at the looming trees, “We’re just a little, you know, off the beaten path.”

“Lost.”

He huffed, “Well, what are we going to do? Your phone is dead.”

“It is,” Techno conceded, “But your GPS isn't either.”

Schlatt swore at the device in his hands, briefly covering the flash with his thumb and forcing them into a brief moment of blackness, before their surroundings were lit up again. Techno blinked, swearing he could sort of see something, but reasoned it to be just his eyes playing tricks on him. Again, he knew it was a cliché to say that, especially given the situation, but it just so happened to be at the same time that he was blinking when the light went out, so what else was there to really say? Until he saw something for certain that wasn't right, it wasn't a problem.

He hoped.

They kept moving, trying to stick to the areas with less foliage which looked more like paths, but still nothing looked familiar, all the trees still looked old and all the bushes still had a variety of leaves. The woods were man-made, too, planted in the early 1950’s and so they were on flat land and completely void of features like stones or changes in height, and stretched for about four-square miles. If they knew where they were going, they’d definitely be out of there by now.

They’d been there for about five hours, and every step they took or direction they went just seemed to drag them further and further in, like a spider reeling in a fly, and they were just as helpless to resist. 

And despite Techno knowing for a fact that the girl scouts planted most of the forest in the early 1950’s, and that they’d definitely been in that part of the forest earlier, the place they were now looked old. There were a few fallen trees, their remaining stumps jagged and unnatural looking in the low light from Schlatt’s phone, and as they walked, their shape changed with the shadows cast and made their appearances change from one unknown emotion to another, morphing seamlessly. 

Watching them move, Techno almost didn't notice the collection of stones in a gap between trees, placed like they were the ruins to an old home. 

Schlatt, feeling a sudden chill in the air, turned himself and his phone so they could both see together. 

In the centre of the stones, still as the rest of the forest, a hare sat watching. It didn't move, save from its little nose moving with each quick breath. This lasted a moment, with it just staring at them, definitely seeing them, watching them, and it didn't even shift when Schlatt moved the light back and forth in front of it, making the shadows of both it and the abandoned stones shift. 

“What-” 

As soon as Schlatt spoke, the hare darted - dipping through a hole in the stone wall and skittering off into the darkness, its hurried steps echoing out into the wood. 

Neither of them spokes, just watching through their own foggy breath where the Rabbit went, and trying to listen as intently as possible for any other noise, but save for their breathing, there was nothing. 

A beep.

Techno felt his pocket and fished out his phone, looking at the top corner.

“Two percent!” he said, more whispered, as he brought up the GPS on his phone. Even without enough battery to last them all the way out, just seeing which direction they were facing would be enough to see how far they still had to go. 

“We just gotta go forward. Straight forward,” Schlatt said, reading over Techno’s shoulder. They both looked up, seeing the stones, and then looked to one another again, faces bathed in the light.

“Well,” Schlatt said, looking worried, “You wanna go first?”

“What? Why me?”

“You're the brave one!” 


	12. Blankets

“I think he’s asleep,” Fitz whispered, looking at Carson, who looked at the blanket burrito that was Swagger. 

Truth be told, Carson didn't particularly like Fitz, Swagger or Kryoz, but it wasn't his party, and even though he had strongly advised Schlatt against inviting the trio, his pride and lack of experience with them made him ask then to come anyway. 

It wasn't really a surprise that Swagger had fallen asleep, with Schlatt’s surprisingly good cooking, the hours of video games, the few bottles that had been passed around, and the blankets that had been gathered from all around the house, it was really hard not to. It was just odd that Swagger didn't just lie down on the couch for a nap, but instead decided to make himself in the human embodiment of a slug. 

“Yeah, he’d definitely asleep.” 

Carson looked around, at Ted and Cooper still playing Mario Kart, at Travis taking some mild interest in what he and Fitz were up to, and at Kryoz who was passed out on the armchair. Schlatt, Connor, and Techno were all in the kitchen doing something, but what he wasn't sure. Sneeg and Jimmy had gone a while ago, talking about how they had to do another book sale the next day. If they were both here, they might know of a good way of interacting with Swagger - not so much to wake him up, but to mess with him.

“Should we wake him up?” Travis asked, peeking over Ted when he leaned forward. 

“No, let’s fuck with him,” Fitz said, going to grab one of the larger blankets from across the room, “He’s a really deep sleeper, so he won't wake up.”

Almost as if to emphasise that statement, Swagger let out a snore loud enough to shake the floor. Schlatt came out to look at what made the noise, and laughed when he realised what it was, “What the fuck? I didn't realise I let a water buffalo into my house.” 

Fitz lay down a blanket on the floor next to swagger, making sure that it wouldn't go further up than his neck, and began to tuck the blanket already around him more securely around his sleeping form. Then, with a great amount of strength, he pushed Swagger onto the next blanket. Carson saw this, and getting the idea, he helped Fitz move him over the blanket again, so that he was now wrapped up in two, then three. Soon they had rolled him far enough to be in front of Ted and Cooper, who leaned around them so that they could still see the screen.

Eventually, there were five decently sized blankets wrapped around Swagger, who was still fast asleep, and Carson couldn't help himself - it was just too funny not to laugh at, and he cracked up, but that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Swagger, still delirious, opened his eyes.

“What the fuck,” he slurred, voice deep from sleep, “What the-”

Fitz took a photo on his phone, just as Swagger woke up the neighbours. 


	13. Fog

Cooper didn't feel well.

He got that he’d had too much food the night before, and that he probably shouldn't have been drinking, and that Schlatt’s floor wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep for nine hours straight, and that he hadn't brushed his teeth or hair yet, but for some reason the ill feeling inside him wasn't the headache, or dry eyes, or the stomach ache. 

In the lonely walk to his house just out of town, where the fog was thickest and the roads were the quietest, he felt sick because he was more than certain someone was following him. 

It wasn't unheard of for someone to take the same route as him, after all, there were more houses than just his own at the end of the tree lined road, but something about the person just felt off. If it _was_someone that he knew, then they’d probably come up to him, or at least call out so that they could walk and talk, but no. 

Whoever it was didn't want to talk, and was definitely walking at the same speed as him. 

He could hear their footsteps as they crunched through the fallen leaves, but with the thickness of the fog, he couldn't see even five feet behind him. 

He walked faster, and the footsteps behind him did too. 

He stopped, and they did too.

He kept going.

It wasn't much further, he thought to himself, it wasn't much longer. 

All he had to do was reach the end of his road and get inside. All he had to do was make sure that he wasn't alone on the long stretch of road with someone right behind him, because he could feel, almost like he could feel the moisture in the air, that as soon as the person reached him, something awful would happen. 

And just as it felt like the person was close enough to see him, to get into his space and touch him, Cooper caught sight of his neighbour’s house, and then his own, and he turned to look at whoever was behind him.

But there was no one there. 

Cooper was alone in the fog, looking down the road he’d just come from and seeing nothing but the trees and the leaves on the pavement, and just as he was going to turn around again and settle himself, he could have sworn that over the other side of the road, where he could see the pavement and the house opposite, he heard footsteps walking past him and further up the road. 


	14. Pumpkin

“How the fuck did you even get this on your head if you can't get it off again?” Ted asked, pulling slightly on the pumpkin stuck on Travis’ head. 

A distressed sounding murmur came from inside. 

Ted huffed, “Well why did you even put it on then?”

“Hrmph.”

“Without cutting any holes in it? You can't even see!” 

“Hu-huh!” 

“Well, that’s good at least. At least your hair will be nice and pumpkin-y for tomorrow, then.”

“Mmm-ummm.”

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. What was supposed to be an after-class pumpkin carving sessions turned almost immediately into a disaster. Cooper and Carson had to go and actually buy their pumpkins, then didn't know where Ted’s house was when they came into town from the east, so got lost, and then Travis thought it would be a fantastic idea to put his hollowed-out pumpkin on his head. It was a pretty good joke, Ted had to admit, and it had even scared him a little when he’d turned around to see it, but it was an even better joke when he saw that Travis couldn't get it off. 

“Okay, we can get a knife-”

“NUHH-UHH!”

“Alright! Not a knife, which actually, yeah, bad call on my part. Um…”

Ted looked around his kitchen seeing the rack with pots and pans, the sad looking orchid on the window sill, and his own half carved pumpkin which was big enough for him to stand in if he really wanted to. Seeing how Travis had turned out, however, made Ted reluctant to even put his hand back in it. 

Travis, without any facial expressions, somehow still managed to look defeated.

“E-wsh I c’ld ‘ee.”

“What did you say?”

“I.”

“Uh-huh?”

“W’sh. I. C’ld. Shee.”

“Wait,” Ted glanced back around, feeling just as uninspired as before, before laying eyes on the chipped plates still in the drying rack, which was when his eyes lit up with an idea; “Why don't we break it?” 

“Br’k it?”

“Yeah, break it.”

“’Ow?”

“Uh,” Ted rummaged around in a drawer looking through the contents. A spatula, a rolling pin, some cookie cutters, a few types of spoons, but nothing inspiring. Then he caught sight of his mother’s clay covered bag - the one she brought with her to pottery classes on Mondays in the evening. His eyes lit up.

“Okay, sit here,” Ted said, guiding Travis so that he was sitting on one of the bar stools. Ted went to the bag, fishing around through the various materials until he found her tool bag, and within it, her carving tools. He grabbed the sticks and pulled them out before walking back over to Travis and taking a seat.

“Stay still,” he said, using one hand to hold the pumpkin/head steady, when he brought the other one forward with a carving tool in hand. He wasn't a potter himself, and had never actually handled carving tools on any surface, let alone pumpkin flesh, but still he pulled the orange flesh out in spirals, peeling it away until there were two eye holes in roughly the same place as Travis’ own eyes.

“Thank goodness,” Travis said, still muffled slightly but a lot easier to understand, “I can breathe again.”   
Ted laughed at him again, feeling a lot better now that Travis had stopped freaking out and could actually see and be understood, and didn't feel as bad when he stated the obvious, “Travis, you're a moron sometimes.” 

“That’s mean.”

“And inaccurate. You're a moron a lot of times.” 

“Wait,” Travis said, “Carve me a mouth.”

“What?”

“Carve me a mouth, I want to scare Cooper.”

So Ted did. Admittedly it was a crude imitation of one more than anything, but it was without a doubt a mouth, with curled teeth and a smile wobbly enough to look almost ambiguous. If Ted hadn't been expecting it, and walked in to see it, he might have actually been a little scared. Travis, through the holes in the pumpkin, looked delighted. 

“Okay, great,” Ted said, “So now I guess you need to go and hide, right?”

“Behind the door?” Travis asked, but was already making his way over. 

“Sure.” 

Ted and Travis waited, and sure enough in a minute or so they heard the gravel on his driveway crunch as Carson’s car pulled in and then their shoes approaching the door. Travis, however, hadn't noticed the flaw in his little plan, and after Cooper struggled to open the door handle he just used his foot to kick the door open, and the handle on the other side went straight through the side of the pumpkin, cracking its base which caused it to roll off Travis’ head. 

“No!” He yelped, trying to grab his pumpkin before it hit the ground - but he was too late. The pumpkin was in three pieces, totally unsalvageable, and all over the door handle. 

“Travis! What-?”

“Dude, you alright?”

Ted couldn't hear them, too busy laughing at the sight of Travis scrabbling for the pieces of pumpkin, and of Cooper holding the door closed on Carson so that it didn't swing and hit him again. 

“You guys are idiots,” He laughed.

At least the pumpkin wasn't stuck on Travis’ head anymore, even if they would have to go and get another one for him. 


	15. Hot Chocolate

Wilbur hated his job.

It was the only coffee shop in the area, which was far enough away from his house that he had to cycle every day, and close enough to the rest of the town for him to see a lot of people he knew. It honestly wasn't so bad at first, when he only really saw people he liked and could make brief conversation with, but when he saw people he disliked, or people he kind of knew but didn't really, it was awkward.

“It’s not so bad,” R.T. said, but he was a hypocrite, “All you do is make coffee for six hours every Saturday-”

“And three hours Tuesday.”

“-Yeah, and three hours Tuesday, but! You get paid nine dollars an hour, which is more than me. Just saying.”

“You don't have a job.”

“Well,” R.T. said, stopping outside the coffee shop, “You can't say I haven't tried.” 

Wilbur glared at him, unlocking the front door, “Talking to my boss every day doesn't mean that he’ll give you a job.”

“_Not_talking to your boss doesn't mean he’ll give me a job, either.” 

Pushing through the door, Wilbur began taking off his coat and walked straight behind the coffee counter, leaving R.T. to find a table and let him get his laptop and work set up. The place was cosy, but still had enough tables for people to feel comfortable and unrestrained with their choices. Since it was on a corner, there were windows along two of the walls, and the other two were filled with a few selected photos from around the town, such as one of the hill near the park, or of Blair’s wood, and even a tasteful one of the gate to the cemetery, which was covered in ivy. With the wood finishing, the collection of cups and packaged cookies on the counter, and comfy furnishings, it was probably the highlight of the north side of town. 

Just as Wilbur started setting up, getting the cakes out of the fridge and making sure all the machines still had coffee in them, he heard the bell chime on the door.

“Hello, welcome to Generic Coffee, what can I- Mr. Maron?”

Mr. Maron, the high school’s only history teacher, looked just as surprised to see Wilbur as Wilbur was to see him, and since he wasn't standing at the front of a classroom, also looked a lot smaller than Wilbur remembered. It was weird seeing him out of context, and based on R.T.’s own look of joy, this wasn't a regular occurrence. 

“Oh, hello Wilbur,” Mr. Maron said with the grace he must have acquired from years of bumping into students, “I didn't realise you worked here.”

“Not all the time,” he hurried to explain, “I usually only do Tuesdays, but I’m doing over time.”

“Well,” Mr. Maron laughed awkwardly, “It’s a good way of spending time and earning money.”

“Anyway,” He hurried on, “What can I get for you? We’ve recently got this new type of coffee, which is pretty good, um.”

“I’ll have a, uh, a hot chocolate.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, trying to hide his surprise, “What size is that?” 

“A medium. Oh, and to take away, please.”

Wilbur got to making the drink, and took the money as the machine poured out the rich substance. He was still in a daze, wondering how much quicker the machine could pour and about R.T.’s continued reaction as he turned back around with the cup.

“Do you want whipped cream?” 

Mr. Maron gave him an odd look, and Wilbur smiled.

“That was an obvious question, wasn't it?” 

He laughed as Wilbur put the cream on top, and then secured the lid. 

“Thanks, Wilbur,” he said, taking a sip, “I always love the hot chocolate from here.”

“Do you love it enough to pass my last paper?”

Mr. Maron gave him a look, and turned to leave, but not without putting a couple of dollars into the tip jar before he went. The door chimed again with his exit, and Wilbur turned to see R.T. sitting smugly in the best seat in the shop.

“What?”

“What, what? I didn't say anything.”

“Exactly, you're planning something.” 

“Not planning,” he admitted, “Just thinking.” 

Wilbur gave him a distrusting look, "So long as it doesn't involve me, do what you want."

And at that, all R.T. did was laugh a long and loud laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my (half) fictober! Even though I'm kind of leaving this fandom on a sour note, I will continue to write on Ao3 if you're interested in some of my other works.
> 
> As always, Kudos, comments and bookmarks are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Have a great autumn!


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